


Freefall

by bittenfeld



Category: Miami Vice, Miami Vice (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-09
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 14:21:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7442545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My body shivers, here on the floor, and I cannot control it.<br/>My belly clenches about the sharp knifing pain, a fiery stiletto stabbing deep into my guts, to the place where the slug is lodged.  It hurts, Dios mio, it hurts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freefall

**Author's Note:**

> from the episode “Miami Squeeze” (warning: spoilers)

My body shivers, here on the floor, and I cannot control it.

My belly clenches about the sharp knifing pain, a fiery stiletto stabbing deep into my guts, to the place where the slug is lodged.  It hurts, Dios mio, it hurts.

I lie sprawled on my back in a cold sticky puddle of my own blood, amid a scatter of glass shards.  The impact of the shot must have thrown me back against the mirrored table, shattering it.

I feel my heart pound as it desperately attempts to compensate for the blood loss.

Even through my closed eyelids, the ceiling lights hurt my eyes.

I hear their voices argue, the woman who wants to destroy my career, the man who wants to destroy my life.

Why do they try to do this to me?  My mind replays the incriminating sound of my own voice, as she made me listen to the tape, and I feel shame well up, colder than the blood loss.  What will my people think of me?  Will they believe that I finally sold out?

The thought of losing their trust hurts worse than the lump of hot lead burning in my gut.

Hurts worse than the thought of dying.

Death and I are close acquaintances.  It has abducted friends from me, some even from the shelter of my arms in the hell of a battlefield, or on a criminal-infested midnight city street.  Now it calls for me.  Surrendering would be so easy…

Madre de Dios, my mind is wandering.  Body shock from the blood loss and the pain, I know.

I wonder if I’m going to die.  Death is so cold.  Dios mio, why can’t I stop shaking?  My fingers and toes are numb, my lips icy.  I want to lick my lips, but I can’t find the strength even for that.

Noise.  Other voices.  Sonny, Rico.  If I am going to die, at least I got to hear your voices one more time.  At least I won’t die alone.

The sounds fade in and out.  As though cotton in my ears muffles the noise.  The numbness crawls up my limbs.

Rico kneels beside me, touches me.  He’s frightened.  Even more than I am.  “Looks bad,” I hear him say.  “Where’s the phone?”

He wants to call for an ambulance.  I almost want to tell him not to bother.  I don’t think I can last long enough.

I know I’m drifting in and out.  I feel like I’m floating, free-falling.  Starting to lose my grip on consciousness.

So easy to surrender…

But then suddenly, out of nowhere, Sonny is here, huddled over me, his desperate concern surging around me.

Warm hands touch me.  “God, Marty,” he begs.  “Hang on.”  Urgently he tugs open my coat and shirt to expose the wound.  The blood-soaked material slides messily against my skin.

Those warm hands rise to my throat, warm fingertips search apprehensively for my pulse.  At least I still have a pulse.

His presence anchors me to reality.  And I realize I don’t want to surrender after all.  I’ve got work to do and friends to live for.

From somewhere deep inside I find just enough strength to open my eyes a slit.  Just enough to see those blond features hovering inches from my face, taut concern tightening lips and jaw.

I try to smile, want to assure him I’ll be all right.  I can’t seem to get the words out.  I hope he understands anyway.

The warm hands slip into my hair, hold my head.  He leans closer, his cheek against my cheek.  “Hang on,” he pleads again, his gravelly voice even huskier now, as he attempts to infuse some of his life-force into me.

His warm breath feathers against my hair, my face, my ear.  So warm.

Under his determination, the chill recedes from my body.  I no longer notice the cold.  By now the ambulance is on its way.

I’ll hang on, Sonny.  Don’t worry any more.  I’ll make it now, just as long as you hang on with me.

* * * * * **FINIS** * * * * *

 


End file.
